


Tree House

by wordyanansi



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Mentions of Finn Collins, Mentions of John Murphy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 00:15:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3589143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordyanansi/pseuds/wordyanansi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two-Shot fic based on the prompt: "You got us stuck in your nephew's tree house".</p><p>Bellamy and Clarke have been friends for years, but it's the anniversary of Jake's death and Clarke's sad, alone, and just crazy enough to think having sex with Bellamy Blake is a great idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One Night Stand//November

**Author's Note:**

> So, firstly, a big thank you to Sam (do you have an AO3? I know you keep your tumblr separate like me) who gave me this prompt. Such a small prompt, right? No. No it is not. It is a huge angst filled prompt because I am incapable of writing happy fluff. 
> 
> Second big thank you goes out to @tacosandflowers for beta-ing this fic for me and listening to me cry about how I've never written smut before and I have no idea what I'm doing. And encouraging me not to give up when this fic started to feel unwieldy. I'm really happy with how it turned out and it wouldn't have turned out like this without you.

Clarke’s pretty sure this is a terrible idea.

But the thing is: it’s seeming less and less like a bad idea and more and more like a great idea. In fact, she doesn’t know why she hasn’t thought of it before.

But that’s not strictly true, and she knows it. What’s more true is that for the first time she’s figured out how to go about it in a way that won’t change anything tomorrow if it’s a terrible idea. It’s a terrible idea. It might be the best idea she’s ever had. 

She took a deep breath and poured herself a single malt. She stared at it for a moment. This was essential to the plan. And it wasn’t like she didn’t want it. Anniversaries sucked. It’s been eleven years since her father died. And then, not six months after, she’d found out that Wells had been cheating her. Wells, who she’d trusted since infancy, had spent the last two months of their relationship cheating on her under the excuse of “you’re not the same girl I fell in love with” ( _I just lost my father, asshole, of course I’m not the same. And good riddance to you!)_. And now it’s happened again: so close to the anniversary of her father’s death and someone she trusted is cheating on her.  Or rather, with her. The whiskey disappeared from the glass. She hadn’t felt so replaceable and worthless since that time… until two months ago with Finn. Honestly, she doesn’t care about Finn anymore. It was a blip on the radar; three months of flirting fun and one month of average sex and laughter before she’d found him in bed with Raven.  Developing a friendship with Raven had been the highlight of her year, no matter the circumstances. And Raven got along with her friends in a way that Finn had never managed.

No, Finn didn’t matter. But she’s just the right mix of nostalgic and upset that this seems like the best idea she’s ever had. Because from the day Miller invited her to the Drop Ship ten years ago, after her first almost silent week in town, she’d known that Bellamy Blake knew how to give a lady what she wanted. He’d left that night, after an hour of glaring and pointless arguments, on the arm of one of the most attractive women that Clarke had ever seen.

 

_“That’s just how he is,” Octavia said, screwing up her nose. “Don’t hold it against him.” Clarke raised her eyebrows and smirked._

_“Why would it bother me? More power to him, as long as he keeps it away from me,” Clarke replied. Octavia and the rest of the table collapsed in laughter._

_“Oh, yes, I think we’ll definitely keep you,” Octavia said._

_“God, just the entertainment value of someone giving Bellamy as good as he gets,” Jasper added. Monty chuckled beside him._

_“And she’s pretty to boot,” Miller added. Clarke laughed. He grinned at her. “Even if I’m not getting a second date.”_

_“Sounds like you’re going to be stuck with me anyway,” Clarke joked._

 

Not that in the past year or two he’d taken many women home. Settling down, she teased him. He’d smile that ridiculous smile that suggested he was embarrassed about it, and she’d leave him be with a hip check and a smile that said she had his back. Because she did. It had been years since the argument stopped being vicious and sniping, and started being banter and friendly fire. Years… and they’d gone from screaming matches to best friends. She remembered the first time she’d realised it, four years ago.

_“Bellamy, I got the job! I’m officially a GP!” Clarke had said, bursting into his apartment with barely a knock. He’d been up off the couch and giving her a hug before she made it half way across the room._

_“That’s awesome, Princess. Didn’t I say you’d be fine?” he asked her, teasing. She grinned._

_“Shut up, Blake. You might have known, but I didn’t. Now, call your sister and Milller. I’ll call the nerds. We’re heading to the Drop Ship to celebrate,” Clarke said, flopping down on his couch. He stood in the middle of the room smiling at her strangely. Clarke looked at him suspiciously._

_“What?” she asked slowly. He shook his head, still smiling._

_“I’m the first person you told?” he asked, something like wonder in his tone. It shocked Clarke, for a moment. She hadn’t realised what she was doing, but he was the first person she’d wanted to tell. He’d been the one she’d told about how she’d like to be a general practitioner, he’d been the one to encourage her, and when it happened… it just made sense to come here first. She smiled._

_“Yep. Turns out you’re my best friend, Bellamy Blake,” she said. “God help us all.” Bellamy laughed and fell down beside her on the couch._

_“You’re my best friend too, Clarke Griffin. God help us all,” he said, reaching for his phone._

  
Octavia had gotten some mileage out of that one. And for all that he was her best friend, it’s not like Clarke hadn’t noticed that he was ridiculously attractive. Even Finn had commented on it.

_“I’m not sure how I feel about your best friend being a man who looks like that, Clarke,” Finn said. “Are you sure nothing’s ever happened between the two of you?”_

_“Finn! He’s Bellamy. We’ve been friends for nigh on a decade. And just friends,” Clarke had replied scornfully. ‘He’s like my brother’ was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t say it. Because she had some very unsisterly thoughts about him sometimes._

_“Still. I don’t trust him,” Finn said, glaring at him from across the bar. Bellamy was in the process of ordering a drink and fending off the drunken advances of a bridal party. Clarke smiled at him for a moment, but it dropped as she faced a scowling not-quite-boyfriend Finn._

_“You don’t have to trust him, Finn. You only have to trust me,” she’d replied, and he’d smiled at her and taken her hand._

_“Of course I trust you, babe,” he said._

 

Hypocrite, she thought to herself as she considered her next move. She wasn’t good at one night stands, in fact, she’d only had a couple. But she really wanted to feel safe and loved, just for one night, just for a while. And she really wanted it to be with Bellamy. Tonight was the night she would make her move. She would show up at his house on the anniversary of her father’s death with her breath smelling like whiskey. She would kiss him, let him taste the whiskey. She’d tell him that she was sick of feeling so unlovable and alone, which was the truth, and that she wanted him, trusted him, needed him… the truth. She’d couch the truth in circumstance and a touch of whiskey, so if it went badly she had an out and they’d never have to speak about it again.

It was a great plan.

It was a terrible plan.

 

Clarke was still debating herself when she knocked on Bellamy’s door. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so nervous. She told herself she didn’t have to follow through with this, she could just collapse on his couch and drink beer and watch some dumb action movie. They’d sit there with his arm around her, and she’d get to breathe in his scent and feel his solid chest behind her, and she’d feel safe like always… just like they’d done on his mother’s anniversary last year. Platonic, innocent, and friendly. She swallowed as he opened the door, and she knew she was sticking to the plan. He needed a haircut, the logical part of her brain said. I want to run my fingers through it, the illogical part of her brain said. She looked up into his deep brown eyes, full of happiness that she was there and concern at the hour.

“Clarke, hi. Are you okay?” he asked her, and something in his tone made her stomach fall. What if there was another woman here? She swallowed again.

“Sorry, am I… am I interrupting something?” she asked. He smiled at her and stepped back to let her pass.

“You know there’s nothing I wouldn’t interrupt for you,” he said warmly. “But you’re fine, I was just having a few beers and watching TV. What’s up?” Clarke paused in the entryway opposite as he shut the door. She took a breath, stepped forward, and pressed her lips to his. Bellamy didn’t move, but Clarke didn’t back away. She counted seconds. One. Two. Three. F- His hands found her hips and he stepped forward, tilting his head to kiss her more deeply, taking her bottom lip between his. Clarke’s relief was instant and spread through her like a warmth. Her hands found his neck and she let out a noise of appreciation. It was the noise that broke the spell, and he used his grip on her hips to push her away and up against the wall.

“Clarke. What. Are. You. Doing?” Bellamy asked, his voice tight and his head bowed. He couldn’t even look at her. He was kissing her, and then he wasn’t. She blinked back the threatening tears.

“Well, I was kissing you,” she said quietly. “And now I’m not, apparently.” He looked at her then, smiling.

“Very funny, Princess,” he replied dryly, stepping back from her. He ran his hand through his hair, typical Bellamy gesture, and it made her smile back at him fondly.

“I need another drink,” Bellamy said after a moment, looking at her again. “If we’re going to have this conversation, I’m going to need another drink. Do you want another drink?” Clarke nodded and followed him into the kitchen.

“I’m… sorry?” she offered, trailing behind him. He threw her a look over his shoulder.

“You don’t sound sorry,” he replied, pouring them both whiskeys. She shrugged.

“What can I say? It was a great kiss. I think about kissing you sometimes. And I’m sad and lonely and you make me feel safe and loved. And today is…,” Clarke explained, her voice trailing off. He looked at her, realisation dawning on his face.

“Your dad,” he said sadly, looking at her carefully. “Sorry, Clarke, I should have… I should have remembered.” She looked away and shrugged.

“Is what it is,” she replied. She looked back at him. She couldn’t read his expression, but he was clearly thinking. She waited.

“It was a great kiss,” he agreed. “And I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it before.” Clarke swallowed again, a small smile forming. He smiled back at her, and it’s not a smile she’d seen before. It was reserved for the women he was taking to bed and Clarke felt her arousal starting. She knew he’d be good at this. A smile, all it took was a smile. She bit her lip. He downed his whiskey.

“Okay. If you want to do this, I’m in,” he said. Clarke smiled smugly. He frowned, thinking again, her smile lessened. “One night. That’s the deal, right? One night and this never happened.” Clarke nodded. There was a part of her stomach that clenched, she’d known it would go this way, but clearly there was a part of her that had still hoped it would be more.

“One night. Bell… thank you,” she said, moving toward him. He looked at her strangely again as she placed her hands on his chest.

“Just… why me, Princess?” he whispered. She smiled at him.

“I trust you. You’re my best friend, Bellamy Blake. And it’s not like you don’t know how to please a woman,” she whispered, kissing his cheek. He stiffened at her last words, but sighed raggedly as she moved to nibble his neck. He stood stock still.

“And you’re sure?” he asked her, whispering. There was something in his voice, something she couldn’t identify. She put it down to arousal and pressed her body against his, capturing his mouth again, pulling at his bottom lip. He groaned, his arms locking around her, and he was kissing her deeply. Clarke moaned contentedly as she traced her nails over his back. He groaned and pulled back, pressing their foreheads together.

 

 

 

“Clarke,” he breathed her name, her hands still under his shirt, his hands twisted up in her hair and splayed across her lower back. They were breathing heavily, out of breath. She inhaled his scent, the smell of him that always made her feel like she was safe, even when they were shouting at each other.

“Bellamy,” she sighed in response, and she felt his hands tighten against her.

“You’re sure,” he asked again, but it didn’t feel like a question, or at least, not the question he was asking. She nodded, pulling back slightly to look him in the eye.

“I’m really, really sure. I want you, Bellamy,” she said softly, honestly. He made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded almost like a growl, taking her mouth again, and he slipped the hand from her back down to cup her ass and patted it once. She took this to mean she ought to jump up, so she did. He caught her as her legs wrapped around his waist and he carried her to his bedroom. She felt wetness pool in her underwear with the ease at which he was holding her, carrying her. The kiss broke as he dropped her on the bed.

“Good, because I really want you, Clarke,” he replied, his breathing heavy from the kissing. She smiled at him, satisfied and wanting at the same time. He pulled his shirt over his head and discarded it before he crawled on top of her. She moaned as he traced his fingers on her stomach underneath her shirt while he grazed his teeth at the base of her neck. He made the noise in the back of his throat again, and pulled back to yank off her shirt. She helped him, sitting up a little, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her flush against at his chest. She sighed at the feeling of their skin pressed together and arched her back into him, and made a noise of contentment.

“You’re not making it easy for me to take this slow,” he muttered, his hand finding the clasp of her bra, and his mouth buried against her shoulder.

“Who says I want to take this slow?” she teased, and he stiffened.

“I don’t want to just fuck you, Clarke. You deserve better,” he said quietly. She kissed his shoulder.

“Well, show me then,” she whispered, her lips grazing his ear before taking his lobe into her mouth. He bit her again and she moaned. “Show me what I deserve.” She wasn’t sure he’d heard her whispers, but he paused, drawing back to look at her before replying.

“Everything, Clarke, you deserve everything,” Bellamy whispered back, his eyes molten and his tone bordering on reverential. Clarke closed her eyes as he reclaimed her mouth, body arching almost involuntarily up against his. She let herself dream that this wasn’t a one night stand as his hands caressed her sides and cupped her breasts. She let herself believe this wasn’t the only time she’d get to press her fingers into his biceps, run her fingers through his hair, and feel his arousal pressing against her thigh.

His mouth traced the line of her body, peppering her with light kisses and teasing grazes of his teeth. He paused at her breasts, taking each into his mouth for a moment as he passed, and Clarke moaned again, trying to keep herself still. He continued down her stomach, her hips, his hands deftly undoing the button on her jeans, sliding them and her underwear down her legs, moving his mouth back to her thighs… Clarke’s mouth dropped open as she realised what he was about to do. She normally had to ask, negotiate, trade favours, and here he was, just giving it to her. She pushed herself up on her elbows to watch him, to see him, and he smirked up at her. She bit her lip and tried not to blush. He placed a kiss on her folds, and Clarke couldn’t stop the sharp intake of breath that followed. She felt him smile, and she would have said something, but all thought flew out her head as he quickly separated her folds with two fingers and took her clit into his mouth, sucking. She cried out, dropping herself back onto the bed, arching her chest, trying not to thrust into his mouth. He laughed into her, and it vibrated through her.

“Oh my god,” she managed, as he continued to lick and suck. “I’m going to… oh my god.” He chuckled again, and she arched up into him and he caught her, pushing her back down easily.

“Bell,” she gasped out as her body shook with her orgasm. He pulled away from her as she recovered, staring at her. She tried to keep her breathing under control as she watched him. “You okay?” she asked him, when he was still staring at her after a minute, and she was recovered and ready to keep going. He let out a breathy laugh and grinned at her wickedly.

“Yeah, I’m good. I want to hear that again,” he told her, taking off his pants. Clarke grinned at him.

“You’d be the first,” she teased him, and his grin widened.

“Now I’m definitely going to hear it again,” he said, determination lacing his tone. Clarke laughed as he climbed on top of her. She loved him. She knew it with a flash of certainty, and she knew that she’d been dancing around this for a long time. One night stand. The words echoed in her brain for a moment even as he kissed her. His hands found her wrist and pinned them to the bed suddenly and she was surprised at the rush of arousal that coursed through her, dragged out of her thoughts and moaning again. Her noises seemed to drag out another ragged breath.

“I knew you’d be vocal,” he muttered. “Fucking knew it.” She twitched under him.

“You thought about how I’d be in bed?” she asked, breath uneven and she twisted her wrists in his hands, relishing the friction. He pressed his forehead to her shoulder for a moment.

“Of course I have, Clarke. You’re sexy and smart and funny and kind. Of course I’ve thought about it,” Bellamy says, punctuating his statements with kisses to various body parts, not looking her in the eye. “I didn’t think I’d get to find out though,” he says, positioning himself at her entrance. She swallows.

“I thought about it too. I’m glad you’re finding out,” Clarke says softly, and then he is inside her and thrusting, and she’s about to have her second orgasm, and the time for conversation is over.

 

 

She wakes up the next morning tangled in his arms, her back pressed against his chest and his breath in her hair. She knows exactly where she is from the moment she stirs. It’s been a long time since she felt this much at home. One night stand. The words came into her head unbidden and she stiffened. Last night was fun, a day dream, but today was reality and he had made it clear that all he wanted was a one night stand. But… some of the things he’d said… the way he’d looked at her… No, she told herself sternly. Don’t do this. Don’t ruin a perfectly good friendship because you wanted to have sex and accidentally developed feelings. She pulls herself out of bed, ignoring his stirring noises of complaint, and disappears into the bathroom to shower.  She doesn’t want to have the conversation she knows they’re going to have naked in bed together. 

When she emerges, dressed in last night’s clothes with damp hair and pink cheeks, he’s in the kitchen. The elastic in his sweats is going and they barely manage to cling to his hips, and his t-shirt has a hole in the hem, but she knows it’s his favourite. She licks her lips as she gives herself another stern talking to about the nature of friendship and one night stands. She takes a breath and slips onto a bar stool at the kitchen bench behind him.

“So…,” he says, awkwardly pausing as he watched the kettle boil. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The awkward pause stretches out, and she’s going to have to be the one to do this. Her stomach turns.

“We talked about this last night, Bell,” Clarke sighed. “You said one-time thing.” He nods, still not looking at her.

“And Octavia. I couldn’t… I promised I’d never sleep with her friends. She can’t know. She’ll be furious,” he said, smirking at her, looking at her finally, and Clarke forced a smile at him, wondering if there was no Octavia to worry about if he’d still be saying this. If he’d felt what she felt last night, like it was a beginning, not like a one-time roll in the hay. She wondered if he noticed how false his smirk was this morning, and she wondered if it was bravado or awkwardness.

“Right. Yeah, best to keep this just between us,” she agrees and tries not to be bitter.

“Clarke, I’d… last night was…,” he began, looking at her strangely. She didn’t want to hear it, smiling bright and tight. There was no way he was going to say what she wanted him to. This would not be a declaration of love. Of course he’d thought about kissing her, having sex with her. They’d known each other for years, they were both attractive people. But it didn’t mean he’d really wanted to do it. It had been a favour, and she didn’t want to hear that what may have been the sex of her life was pity sex ( _two_ orgasms).

“I thought you’d done this before,” she teased him, instead. “You don’t need to compliment my technique.” He winced almost imperceptibly and she wouldn’t have missed if she didn’t know him so well. But then he smirked again.

“Compliment? Are you sure? You were pretty drunk there, Miss Griffin,” he teased back. It was Clarke’s turn to wince, is that why he’d done it? He thought she was drunk? Thought she wouldn’t remember most of it? She swallowed.

“Right, and you were completely sober,” she said, instead of what she wanted to say. His jaw shifted. He was, he was sober and so was she and neither of them were going to say it. Her stomach rolled and she licked her lips as the kettle whistled.

“Tea or coffee?” he asked. Clarke shook her head. Time to go, this was getting weird. For the first time since last night she let herself wonder if this had been a mistake.

“Uh, no. I’m gonna go. I’ve got stuff to do today and your sister wants to take me to lunch,” she said, standing up, adjusting her clothing. Bellamy stiffened.

“Right. Uh, okay. I’ll see you later then?” Bellamy asks, holding an empty mug and looking at her like she was a stranger. The look felt like a blow, but she covered it with a smile.

“Of course. We’re going to the Drop Ship tonight with everyone,” she replied, picking up her jacket. She would have kissed his cheek when she said goodbye before last night. But somehow that felt like the wrong move. He was still staring at her.

“Thanks for… not shutting the door,” she said, more awkwardly than she would have liked. He smiled at her.

“Thanks for knocking,” he replied, and he smiled genuinely. She nodded, and left.


	2. Tree House // March

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s stuck,” Bellamy said. Clarke closed her eyes, held her breath and wondered if he was joking. Surely he wasn’t joking. He wouldn’t, right? She opened her eyes. He was staring at the door.  
> “Please tell me you’re joking,” she whispered. He shook his head, not turning around. She let the breath she was holding out slowly. “This is all your fault,” she added, still whispering. 
> 
> They haven't really spoken since the one night stand, and now they're trapped in close quarters, and neither of them are happy about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look! They're in a tree house! 
> 
> (This is not another Griffin Industries/Dress situation (smart asses). )
> 
> What follows is angst. You have been warned.

“It’s stuck,” Bellamy said. Clarke closed her eyes, held her breath and wondered if he was joking. Surely he wasn’t joking. He wouldn’t, right? She opened her eyes. He was staring at the door.

“Please tell me you’re joking,” she whispered. He shook his head, not turning around. She let the breath she was holding out slowly. “This is all your fault,” she added, still whispering. He turned around as best he could in the cramped tree house.

“My fault?” he demanded. “How is it my fault that we’re stuck here?” Clarke’s eyes flashed with anger and she scowled.

“I can’t believe _you_ got us stuck in _your_ nephew’s tree house and you’re acting like it’s _not_ your fault. Please explain how this isn’t your fault, Bellamy.” She threw the words at him like weapons, easier to go back to fighting than to think about the close quarters they were in. She tried not to think about the fact that she could smell him.

 

_“Clarke,” he breathed her name, their foreheads pressed together, her hands under his shirt, his hand twisted up in her hair and splayed across her lower back. They were breathing heavily, out of breath. She inhaled his scent, the smell of him that always made her feel like she was safe, even when they were shouting at each other._

_“Bellamy,” she sighed in response, and she felt his hands tighten against her._

_“You’re sure,” he asked again, but there was something in his tone she couldn’t quite identify and it didn’t feel like a question. She nodded, pulling back, looking him in the eye._

_“I’m really, really sure. I want you, Bellamy,” she said softly. He made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded almost like a growl, taking her mouth again, and he slipped the hand from her back down to cup her ass and patted it once. She took this to mean she ought to jump up, so she did. He caught her as her legs wrapped around his waist and he carried her to his bedroom. She felt wetness pool in her underwear with the ease at which he was holding her, carrying her. The kiss broke as he dropped her on the bed._

_“Good, because I really want you, Clarke,” he replied, his breathing heavy from the kissing. She smiled at him, satisfied and wanting at the same time. He pulled his shirt over his head and discarded it before he crawled on top of her. She moaned as he traced his fingers on her stomach underneath her shirt while he grazed his teeth at the base of her neck. He made the noise in the back of his throat again, and pulled back to yank off her shirt. She helped him, sitting up a little, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her flush against at his chest. She sighed at the feeling of their skin pressed together and arched her back into him, and made a noise of contentment._

_“You’re not making it easy for me to take this slow,” he muttered, his hand finding the clasp of her bra, and his mouth buried against her shoulder._

_“Who says I want to take this slow?” she teased, and he stiffened._

_“I don’t want to just fuck you, Clarke. You deserve better,” he said quietly. She kissed his shoulder._

_“Well, show me then,” she whispered, her lips grazing his hear before taking his lobe into her mouth. He bit her again and she moaned. “Show me what I deserve.” The words were nothing but breath, but he heard them, she knew, because he before he reclaimed her lips, he spoke:_

_“Everything, Clarke, you deserve everything.”_

 

 He glared at her.

“This was _your_ idea, Princess,” he bit back. Clarke blinked twice, and then frowned.

“No, it wasn’t. It was… that little shit,” Clarke said, narrowing her eyes, remembering Artie tugging on her hand and telling her to go into the tree house to wait for him. Bellamy followed her train of thought, but instead of scowling, he started to laugh. Clarke’s eyes narrowed further. “Of course you think this is funny. This is such a _you_ thing to do.” Despite her attempts to stay mad, she couldn’t help the humour starting to creep into her voice. Bellamy grinned at her.

“Exactly. I’m so proud of him,” he said. He fought the grin off his face. “But, of course, I’m not going to tell him that.” Clarke shook her head.

“So what, he said I wanted to talk to you and you just high-tailed it up here?” she asked. He glared at her.

“How did he get you up here then?” he challenged. She screwed up her nose.

“A story about wanting to show me his latest art work,” she replied. He raised his eyebrows at her, doubting her story. She looked back at the door.

“Whatever. How do we get out of here?” she sighed, moving back into the tree house, angling herself around the furniture and odds and ends being stored up here. It was a brilliant size for a ten year old boy and a couple of friends. Not so awesome for two adults. She sat against the back wall and waited for an answer.

Bellamy examined the door again, looked at the floor, and sighed.

“It’s the rain. It makes the door stick. I keep saying I’ll fix it for him, but…,” Bellamy lets his voice trail off. Clarke sighs.

“But you never do,” Clarke finishes for him softly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he snapped at her. Clarke bit the inside of her bottom lip, rolling it between her teeth. It wasn’t her place to say anything, but here they were… And this was the way they worked these days: one of them was always angry and they swapped it back and forth like a baton.

“You’re busy, Bellamy. You’re always so busy lately. And I’m not saying that your family isn’t a priority, but the fact of the matter is… no one feels like they’ve seen you in weeks. Monty and Miller were taking bets on whether or not you’d even show today,” she explained. Bellamy worked his jaw.

“It’s Artie’s seventh birthday. Of course I was going to be here,” he snapped again. Clarke raised her eyebrows.

“You missed Octavia’s birthday last month. You said you would come and then at the last moment… Look, whatever it was, I’m sure it was important, because nothing matters more to you than her,” Clarke said, trying to keep the tightness out of her tone. It wasn’t jealousy, she was his sister. But she couldn’t help it either.

_“So…,” he said, awkwardly pausing as he watched the kettle boil. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat._

_“We talked about this last night, Bell,” Clarke sighed. “You said one-time thing.” He nods, still not looking at her._

_“And Octavia. I couldn’t… I promised I’d never sleep with her friends. She can’t know. She’ll be furious,” he said, smirking at her, looking at her finally, and Clarke forced a smile at him, wondering if there was no Octavia to worry about if he’d still be saying this. If he’d felt what she felt last night, like a beginning, not like a one-time roll in the hay._

_“Right. Yeah, best to keep this just between us,” she agrees and tries not to be bitter._

“I had to work, Clarke. Some of us do, you know,” he ground out. She glanced up and he wasn’t looking at her anymore. He was lying. She’d known Bellamy Blake for almost a decade and she could count on one hand the number of times she’d seen him outright lie. But here they were. Her jaw dropped and her eyes widened as she voiced her realisation.

“Oh my god, Jasper was right. You’ve got a secret girlfriend,” she breathed. Bellamy jerked his head to look at her.

“What? No. No, I do not have a secret girlfriend. Do you really think I would ditch my sister’s birthday to hook up with some girl?” he demanded. Clarke shook her head.

“No, not “some girl”,” she said, finger quotes and all, “your girlfriend.” Bellamy scoffed and shook his head.

“There is no girlfriend, Clarke,” he said, and then he paused. There was something else he was going to say, but he changed his mind. Again, this was not the Bellamy Blake she knew.

“So what’s the truth then? Because you did not have to work,” Clarke asked, curiosity colouring her tone. He looked away again.

“Can we not talk about this please? How about we talk about how we can try to move things around in here so I can attempt kicking the door out?” Bellamy suggests, and he starts to move some of the items to the side of the room. Clarke raises her eyebrows, and smirk teases at the corners of her mouth.

“Now I _really_ want to know,” she said, but she pushed the chair nearest to her against the wall. Bellamy paused and looked at her, something unreadable in his eyes.

“No, you don’t,” he said quietly. It was a warning. But Clarke frowned. She hadn’t seen him look at her like that in over five years, before their friendship matured with them and turned into something more amicable and less tempestuous.

“Are you… are you mad at me?” she asked him, her voice small and serious. It had been hard enough doing life without her best friend for the past few months, but she’d thought it had been because of the one night stand, not because of something she’d done. Bellamy closed his eyes and sighed.

“I’m not mad at you, Clarke. I’m never really mad at you. I’m mad at myself,” he replied, his voice equally small and serious. He sounded like he did the night a year ago that Octavia had that motorcycle accident and no one was sure she was going to be okay.

_“What am I going to do if she’s not okay?” he asked, his head in his hands as they sat on the uncomfortable plastic waiting room chairs. Miller stood off the side, looking at Bellamy, horrified. Jasper and Monty were sitting in a two seats over, holding hands tightly. Raven was pacing behind them, holding a coffee she couldn’t drink. Clarke was too scared to answer, just placing her arm around his shoulders and leaning against him silently. She knew he wouldn’t be okay, that none of them would. His breathing was deep, and each breath sounded like he was trying not to sob. A doctor came out and she stood, taking two steps forward._

_“Lincoln’s friends?” he asked, and they nodded. “He’s fine. Broken leg and a few scratches. We can discharge him tomorrow but we want to watch him overnight just in case.” Raven let out a loud sigh behind her._

_“Octavia?” she asked, her voice barely stable. The doctor shook his head._

_“She’s still in surgery. We’ll let you know more when we can,” he replied and then he walked away like it was nothing. Clarke felt like she was going to fall to her knees, and she made a small involuntary noise. Miller was at her side in seconds, an arm around her._

_“It’s going to be okay,” he said quietly into her hair. Clarke shook her head._

_“You don’t know that,” she replied._

_“No, he doesn’t. But we are going to be okay,” Raven says. “We’re family. We’re going to be okay.”_

_“If she’s not okay, do you really think any of us are going to be okay?” Jasper asks scornfully. Raven’s about to say something else, an argument probably, but Clarke cuts her off._

_“Not now. Just… not now. Someone should go see Lincoln. He’s going to be hurting too,” she says, making it to the chair. “And call his parents for Artigas.”_

_“I’ll go,” Miller said._

_“I’ll come too,” Raven said, and they disappeared down the hall. Clarke leaned against Bellamy, taking her hand in his._

_“What will I do?” he asks again, so softly only she can hear it. She wants to say that it will be okay, or that she’ll be there with him whatever he needs. She wants to tell him that Octavia’s a fighter, that she’s going to make it. But she doesn’t say anything and rubs her thumb against the back of his hand._

_Twenty minutes later they hear that Octavia is going to be just fine and Bellamy hugs her so tightly that she almost jokes about broken ribs, but she doesn’t._

 

Her stomach turned at the memory and she shuffled forward, placing a hand on his arm. He flinched, but she didn’t pull away.

“We’re friends, Bellamy. You can tell me anything,” she offers gently, and a million things are running through her head. She wonders if he’s sick, or in trouble, or ashamed of something , or… Bellamy opens his eyes and all she sees is pain.

“I really can’t, Clarke,” he replies, his voice trying to be hard, so she moves away again and tries not to feel rejected by him. Again.  She curls against the wall behind him and watches him continue to move furniture and toys in silence. When he’s done, he turns to look at her again.

“Can you move? I need to get in that space to kick the door,” he asks her, but he’s not looking at her face, he’s looking at her left shoulder and Clarke wants to cry. But maybe this is it, this is going to be the time that she stops thinking about what if, and shuffles him back into being ‘just friends’.  For all that she wants something to happen,  she’s sick of missing him too. She’s sick of thinking about him at all the wrong times in all the wrong ways. She wants her best friend back, and as much as this hurts, if this is it, she’ll welcome it. She shuffles further back, not looking up at him again, curled in on herself. She’s pretty sure she’s going to cry, but she’s going to make damn sure she waits until he’s gone. She stares at her knees and waits to hear him leave.

 

_“Ugh, that was the worst,” Clarke said, sliding into the booth beside Octavia. The whole gang was there, at the Drop Ship on the third Friday of the month, like normal. She wasn’t meant to be there, she was meant to be having a blind date, and they all knew it. Or at least, she thought they did._

_“What was the worst?” Bellamy asked. Clarke screwed up her face and Octavia smiled at her sympathetically._

_“Clarke had a blind date,” she explained. Clarke sighed._

_“Come on, Murphy’s not that bad,” Miller offered. Clarke glared at him._

_“You set her up? With John Murphy?” Bellamy asked Miller incredulously. Miller shrugged._

_“Seemed like a good idea at the time,” he replied, sipping his beer. Bellamy shook his head._

_“He’s an asshole, Miller. You shouldn’t set her up with a guy like that,” Bellamy said. Clarke cut him a look. “Anyone. No one should be set up with Murphy.”_

_“Where were you last week when Miller said it was a good idea?” Clarke asked. “Because he is an asshole and it was terrible.”_

_“Come on, it can’t have been that bad,” Raven said. Clarke shook her head._

_“He “accidentally” groped my breast when he said hello, he commented on how great my ass was when I went to the bathroom, and when I bailed before dessert he still tried to stick his tongue down my throat,” Clarke said, stealing Octavia’s drink and downing it. When she looked back, Bellamy looked like he was going to punch someone._

_“Calm down, Bellamy, it was just a bad date,” Monty said, trying to diffuse the situation._

_“It’s not like you’ve got anything to be jealous of, clearly she’s not going back for round two,” Jasper added. Bellamy cut him a look. “I mean, not that you’re jealous.”_

_“No, just, protective. Like the older brother you are,” Octavia agreed. Clarke shifted in her seat, suspicious. She looked at Bellamy, asking him if they knew about their one night stand, but the panic in his eyes indicated he wasn’t sure what was going on either, but he didn’t like it._

_“He assaulted her. Of course I’m mad. Why aren’t you mad?” Bellamy asked the table. Lincoln grinned._

_“I’m just waiting for her to tell us how she reacted,” he said. Clarke couldn’t hide her smile._

_“I almost broke his foot. I drove him to emergency before I came here,” she admitted, and the table erupted into laughter._

_As they were leaving, Raven took her aside, linking their arms together._

_“Are you okay? Really, I mean? I know Murphy was a dick but…,” her voice trailed off. Clarke shook her head._

_“One stupid one night stand with some random guy and I can’t stop thinking about him,” she whispered. “It’s not meant to be like this.” Raven smiled sympathetically._

_“It won’t always be.”_

_“It’s been three months, Rae. At some point I’ve got to wonder if I made a really big mistake.”_

He’s not kicking the door.  It’s the only the coherent thought that fits in her head. The silence is overwhelming where there should be loud thumps violently sounding against a wooden door. She swallows. He’s not saying anything either and she can feel him sitting there, not looking at her. She doesn’t want to be the one to look up or speak, because she knows there will be weakness written all over her if she does, but she knows that he’s at least as stubborn as she is. And now he probably feels guilty for upsetting her and he’s useless at apologising, so he just sits there and dejectedly waits for forgiveness. She takes a deep breath in to steady herself, and then breathes it slowly, preparing herself. She looks up at him, his arms on his knees, back against the treehouse wall, staring at his forearms.

“You aren’t kicking the door,” Clarke says quietly. His head moves slightly toward her, but then goes back to his arms, like he can’t even look at her. She’s almost surprised at the way it makes her stomach roll.

“I can’t,” he manages. Clarke looks away from him again and presses her lips together, trying not to cry. She swallows down on the lump in her throat.

“Well, one of us has to, and these shoes aren’t really designed for kicking down doors,” she replies with a false lightness, schooled by years of family dinners with her mother. She’s staring at a picture taped to the wall. He doesn’t respond immediately, and she keeps staring blankly at the picture.

“If I kick open this door…,” Bellamy begins, but his voice trails off. Clarke doesn’t respond. “If I kick open this door, I’m never going to talk to you about this. And I can’t… I can’t do it.” Clarke looks up at him, but he’s still staring at his forearms, his hands making fists on his knees.

“Can’t talk to me about or can’t never talk to me about it?” she asks softly. He laughs, but it’s a desperate, frustrated sound.

“Both,” he says, and for the barest of seconds he gives her a self-depreciating grin. Her stomach clenches involuntarily. She swallows again.

“Well, I don’t particularly want to stay here forever, Bellamy. So what’s it going to be?” she asks, and her voice is full of bravado and humour and empty of the quiet desperation she’s feeling. She takes a moment to thank her mother mentally for training her for times like these. She can even feel the urge to cry immediately subsiding. She might make it through this, depending on what comes next. She might follow him down the ladder, laugh for another half an hour, make her excuses and make it all the way back to her apartment before she cries.

“I’m in love with you.” He says the words quickly, forcing them out his mouth as though they will run away and hide, with his eyes closed and his hands fisted tightly. She stares at him, not quite sure what to say to that. He opens his eyes and looks at her. Studies her. Her eyes, her face, her mouth, her eyes again. He looks so vulnerable and desperate, and she’s not really sure what she’s meant to say to this.

“Say something, Clarke. Please,” he says, and for all the grit of the first sentence, his voice breaks on the ‘please’. She swallows. This was not how she had ever imagined it going. If it was ever going to go, which she had thought that it was not.

“What do you want me to say?” she asked quietly, looking back into his eyes. “I don’t know what to say.” He appears to almost shudder, as his breath leaves him raggedly.

“I don’t know… I want you to tell me the truth, Clarke. Because I need to hear it. I need to hear you say that it’s over and done so I can stop feeling like this,” he speaks urgently, burying his face in hands, running them through his hair and fisting them on his knees again. Then he looks at her, waiting. Clarke feels like she’s having an out of body experience.

“You said… you said it couldn’t ever happen again. That you didn’t want to. You said it was a one-time thing and we never tell anyone and nothing changes between us. And I… I did what you wanted, what we agreed. And now you’re… you love me?” Clarke said, her voice is tight and thick and it feels like it’s smothering her. Bellamy works his jaw again.

“I know what I said, Clarke,” he bites out. “I was… I was deluding myself, okay? I didn’t think you wanted anything else and I was just there and you were angry and hurt and I could do that for you. I could make you feel loved again. So I did it and I pretended I wasn’t going to want more. Like I could get you out of my system or something because, fuck Clarke, I’ve been in love with you for _years_. And I didn’t want you to tell anyone because they all fucking know that I’m in love with you and… I couldn’t deal with that, okay? I couldn’t. They’d tell you or they’d pity me or… I just… I thought I could do this, but I can’t. So I just need you to tell me that you don’t feel the same way so this can stop, so I can stop pretending that you feel the same way about me.” Clarke felt like she couldn’t breathe, and there was a part of her screaming “this is happening” and a part of her saying “this can not be real”.

“What if… what if I did feel the same way about you?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Bellamy’s entire body tensed. She felt the air in the room charge around her skin.

“Don’t say that, Clarke. Don’t say it unless you... Because this isn’t… just don’t fucking say it because I can’t-,” Bellamy starts, furiously talking to his fists. Clarke scowls, anger uncoiling within her again. It’s easier to be angry at him than it is to do anything else. Easier to be angry than to see what’s happening. Just like it always has been between them.

“Great, so, what? You’re allowed to say you love me and I’m not allowed to return the favour? That’s just great, Bellamy. Sorry if I’m deviating from your script, but that’s not how life works,” Clarke snaps back at him. He looks up at her, something unreadable on his face again. Clarke shoves against the wall furiously, readjusting to sit cross legged.  “And sorry, but I love you too, you asshole, and if you wanted me to say anything else maybe you should have given me the script in writing. Now kick this stupid door open so we can get out of here.”  

“No,” Bellamy said, shifting on to his hands and knees, crawling towards her slowly. She glared at him.

“What do you mean ‘no’?” she demanded, and shifted on to her knees so she could move around him. If he wasn’t going to kick the damn door open, she’d do it herself. To hell with him and everything else. Her anger burned in her again, filling and distracting her and she held on to it, even as a small voice in the back of her head asked her to ‘stop, think, listen’.

“No,” Bellamy confirmed, and he pressed his lips gently to hers. She pulled back from him, about to continue telling him off, the only thing she could think to do. “No,” he said again, and pulled her back in to him, holding her tighter, angling her face and deepening the kiss. Clarke felt herself melting into it, into kissing him as her eyes slid closed. He put a hand in her hair again, bringing her face closer, holding her, making her think about the last time he did this, just before he tore off her clothes. The thought pulled her back to reality and she jerked backwards. The hand in her hair caught, not letting her go far, and his eyes bore into hers. Her heart braced and her breathing wouldn’t steady itself.

“What are you doing?” she whispered, and part of her was terrified. Because this wasn’t an agreement or in the plan. This was… something else. She stopped breathing.

“I’m kissing you,” he whispered back. “I love you and you love me and I’m kissing you.” Clarke looked at his face, trying to find a trick or a lie, but all she saw was something earnest and hopeful. She let out a breath and swallowed.

“You do… you meant it, didn’t you? You love me?” he asked, concern suddenly filling his eyes. She presses her lips together and nods. Bellamy sighs a laugh and presses their foreheads together.  “Thank god,” he breathes. And then he pulls back, concerned again. “Wait, you do want this, don’t you? It’s not… you’re not seeing someone else or…,” his voice trails off.

“Some things haven’t changed, Bellamy. Octavia is still my friend and your sister and you said you didn’t want to start anything-,” Clarke begins.

“I don’t care! I don’t care because I can’t do this anymore Clarke,” Bellamy cuts her off, and his voice is half pleading, half snapping.  Clarke shakes her head, pulling back from him. She wants him, she wants to curl up in his lap and keep kissing him. He’s her best friend, but they share a group of friends, and there’s too much that could ruin everything, and they can’t just start making out and pretend like it’s all going to be okay.

“Well, I care. I care a lot. I care about Octavia, and what she thinks. I care about our group of friends and how they’re going to feel if they have to pick sides when we break up. I care about you and our friendship and I don’t want to lose the best friend I’ve ever had,” she says eventually, searching his face, hoping he’ll understand. He hangs his head, looking at his hands balled into fists again.

“When we break up? You’ve already signed the death warrant on the relationship we haven’t even started yet,” he says disgustedly. He looks up at her, disbelief in his eyes. “And if you think for one second that we wouldn’t spend the rest of our lives together you clearly haven’t been paying attention, Clarke.”  There is something in her stomach that flips at this, and warmth spreads through her, a smile threatens on her face and she tries to shove it away. He sees it on her face, and there is a hint of a smile at her reaction.

“You want to spend the rest of your life with me?” she asks, her voice quiet and hopeful. What she meant to say was _‘Yes, after a one night stand you’re equipped to know we’re going to live happily ever after’_.  He ducked his head again, but smiled up at her through his falling hair. She fought a blush.

“You’re my best friend, Clarke. Even before that night, I always pictured my life with you in it,” he admits, and he’s suddenly boyish like she’s never seen him before. She hugs herself mentally.

“Me too,” she replies, chewing the inside of her cheek. His face lights up and she forces a frown. “But you haven’t answered any of my questions. Bell, we can’t just start fucking and hope it all works out.” Bellamy sighs again, and runs his hand through his hair.

“What do you want from me, Clarke? To have this entire master plan already figured out? Well, I don’t. Here’s what I have: I am in love with you, and I want to be with you. I don’t see it ending because you’re my best friend and I _know_ you. I know we fight and bicker, but we always make up and nobody else understands me like you do. It’s not just about the, quite frankly, mind blowing sex. It’s about you,” Bellamy says earnestly and Clarke smiles at him, blushing in the end.

“Bell… I… I feel the same way. I do. And it’s been driving me crazy. But I can’t… I want this. I mean, I really want this. I think about it and I…,” Clarke lets her voice trail off, unwilling to say too much. “But it’s not just about us. Our friends, they’re our family, and they do matter.” Bellamy punched his fist against the floor and, causing Clarke to wince.

“This is not about them, Clarke! It’s about _us._  And, quite frankly, I think they’re just going to wonder what the hell took us so long,” he snapped in frustration. Clarke raised her eyebrows, and she fought the smile threatening to form. _Everything was going to be okay._ She didn’t know where the knowledge came from, and it was knowledge, not just a passing thought. But she knew it was true.

“So what you’re saying is, I get everyone in the divorce?” Clarke asks, teasing him. Bellamy glared.

“Will you stop talking about this ending before it even starts?” he scowled at her. She tried really hard to keep the smile off her face.

“I just need you to tell me something, anything, that makes me believe that you have actually thought about this being a real, practical thing with implications for the people around us, not just about the part that’s all Sunday morning breakfasts and sex,” Clarke tried. This was all she needed, all she needed to start this properly. Bellamy sighed and closed his eyes.

“Fine. We tell them that we’re madly in love and we’re going to start dating and if they have a problem with that they can…,” Bellamy’s voice trailed off and he looked at her. Clarke raised her eyebrows.

“They can what, Bell?” she asks lightly. He rolls his eyes.

“Fine. You have a point. But I don’t think they’re going to have a problem with it. And what, we’re meant to just not be happy because they might not like it? Clarke, I can’t do this anymore. It hurts too damn much. I can’t…,” Bellamy shakes his head. “I’m not trying to be a jerk here, Clarke. But at some point I need to… stop letting you break my heart. However unintentionally you’re doing it.” Clarke sits, watching him, thinking. He’s right, she knows she is, but she’s scared. Bellamy moves to sit beside her, wrapping his arm around her.

“You’re not alone in this, Clarke. And there’s not better team than you and me,” Bellamy says softly, and Clarke presses her head into his shoulder, grateful for him.

“Okay,” she murmurs into his shoulders. “Let’s do it.” He tenses around her.

“Are you sure?” he asks. She can feel the hesitation in him; the fear that she doesn’t mean it. She pulls back to him in the eye.

“I’m sure, Bell. I want this, I want you,” she says, smiling. The tension in his body uncoils as her presses her against him, kissing her again. She arches up into him, curling around him, kissing him back, losing herself in the moment, the world fading away.

“OH MY GOD! HEY, YOU GUYS! BELL AND CLARKE ARE GETTING IT ON IN THE TREE HOUSE,” Octavia yells.

“Fucking finally!” Miller calls back.

“Jasper, you owe me twenty bucks,” Monty says.

“God damnit! You guys couldn’t have gotten your shit together three months ago?” Jasper calls up to them.

Bellamy and Clarke exchange a look that is both embarrassed and happy.

“Should we tell him?” Bellamy whispers. Clarke hits him. He grins. “Fine. We’ll just keep blaming Artigas then.” She laughs.

“Blame Artie, he should have trapped us in this tree house sooner,” Clarke yells down.

“That’s my boy!” Lincoln shouts.

“Oh my goodness, I’ve never been so proud!” Octavia says, making her way down the tree to hug her son.

 

Clarke looks at Bellamy nervously.

“Well, cat’s out of the bag now,” she says lightly. He grinned back at her.

“Told you they’d love it,” he said smugly. She rolled her eyes at him.

“We should get out of this tree house that your sister so kindly freed us from,” Clarke says, shifting away from him. Bellamy pulled her back.

“I don’t think they’re gonna mind if we don’t rush,” Bellamy suggests, his voice low and husky. Clarke grins up at him wickedly.

“I think I can be convinced to make them wait another ten minutes,” she replies. He’s just about to kiss her again, when they’re interrupted.

“Hey, no sex in my son’s tree house,” Octavia yells up at them. Bellamy groans and turns his head.

“Do you mind, O? We’ve been together for literally two minutes. I’m trying to be romantic up here,” he yells back and Clarke giggles beside him, pushing him off.

“You’ve got the rest of your lives for that shit, get down here so we can gloat about how we knew  you guys would get together eventually,” Raven yells.

“Come on then, they aren’t going to leave us alone. We might as well go down,” Clarke tells him quietly, and Bellamy huffs out a sigh.

“Fine, but we stay for no longer than half an hour and then we go home together,” Bellamy grumbles. Clarke laughs again.

“It’s your nephew’s birthday. We stay until it’s done,” she replies, before kissing his cheek and moving to the door. She’s about to step down on to the ladder when he grabs her wrist.

“But we are going home together?” he asks, hopeful look on his face. Clarke grins at him.

“Mind blowing sex, remember?” she asks, and he beams at her.

“Damn straight,” he says proudly.

Clarke laughs again as she makes her way down to the ground, instantly surrounded by her friends and their hugs and teasing. Bellamy is by her side moments later, his arm around her waist like it belongs there. She thinks that maybe, just maybe, being stuck in his nephew’s tree house is the best thing that ever happened to her…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap, ladies and gents!
> 
> Again, huge thanks for the prompt to Sam, and huge thanks to my lovely beta tacosandflowers.
> 
> Finally: thank you to everyone who commented and kudos! It always makes my day.


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